A Personal Tour
by TheMadKatter13
Summary: The first time John rode a horse also happened to be the first time he wore a skirt. Established; Top Sherlock/Bottom John


**I've been sick and a little lackadaisical of late so I think a little PWP is in order.**

**Cross-posted from AO3 same-day.**

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Enemy soldiers, suicide bombers, grenades, assault rifles, injured mates, dead ones, blood and sand and tears. John had faced it all and more. But the thought of mounting the horse in front of him terrified him.

"John, just put your foot in the stirrup." Sherlock, perhaps understanding the depth of the ex-soldier's reticence, spoke calmly and cajolingly. He was smiling gently and holding his hand down to help John up, but John was standing a safe several feet away, eyeing the beast's hooves and mouth.

"First, can't we tour your parent's place on foot? How am I even supposed to get up there in a skirt- And why the hell _am_ I in a skirt?" he groused, gripping the blue fabric in his fists and shaking it out like bedsheets. It had been waiting on the bed they'd been sharing in the guest wing when he'd gotten out of the shower that morning,and he'd had to sneak out of the house when Sherlock refused to leave without him putting it on.

"Brings out the colour in your eyes," Sherlock replied with a smirk that made John want to punch him right off his actual high horse. He settled for glaring at his boyfriend and crossing his arms.

The detective sighed. "John, if you get on the horse, I promise I'll make it worth your while."

A shiver shot down the doctor's back a the tone, the one Sherlock always used when he was trying to lure John into bed. Not that Sherlock needed to do much to lure John anywhere. Except onto this horse.

"Come on, John," the deep voice purred, making his arse clench involuntarily around the anal plug that had been waiting for him with the skirt. "Could be dangerous."

_"Could be dangerous."_ It was like foreplay for them. Had been since the first day. And it was dangerous day after day, but they were somehow always safe, always fine. And that thought, more than anything, got John Watson's foot in the stirrup of a horse.

He was pretty sure he almost kicked his boyfriend in the face in a flurry of arms and skirts and legs, but he eventually got his other foot in the other stirrup and he was standing awkwardly in the saddle, large hands gripping his hips and keeping him steady. Sherlock nuzzled between his arse cheeks, nipping at the base of the plug through cloth and tugging at it, making it shift and making him moan.

"I'm going to let go now-" John panicked, clapping his palms to the backs of Sherlock's hands, keeping them at his hips, too afraid of losing his balance and toppling the several feet to the ground. "It's all right, John. I won't let you fall. I'm just going to take out your plug- it'll be too uncomfortable to ride with- and fix your skirt, and then I'll help you sit. Now, crouch, and hold."

The ex-soldier took a deep breath and bent his knees, and the release of his hips was followed by his skirt being shifted. A breeze wafted in, drifting over the tender skin of his stretched arsehole and his inhale grew shaky when fingers drifted up the inside of his thigh before disappearing. A moment later, the plug was tugged free and there was a rustle of cloth as it was put away.

True to his word, Sherlock's hands returned, though this time they came from under the skirt, and thumbs swept across his arse cheeks, pulling them apart and making him shiver at the touch of air across a hole still slicked with lubrication from that morning's activities. He was tugged down and his legs shook with the effort of keeping his descent slow, scared as he was to sit at the wrong angle and fall.

He'd almost found his seating when the plug breached him again, and his chin shot up as he gasped. But before he could voice his confusion and concern, he was yanked harshly down, and his head dropped back entirely with a shout of pleasure as he was filled suddenly and unexpectedly with his boyfriend's cock.

"_Jesus. Sherlock_," he groaned, legs shaking when he was urged back up, posed halfway impaled.

"I can't imagine a better way to tour the grounds, can you?" Sherlock whispered into his ear.

There was a clucking sound and then the beast was moving below them, urged into a trot that had Sherlock fucking into him with every step.

"Look just over there," that voice in his ear directed. "I used to capture frogs from that pond and hide them in Mycroft's room when he was being frustrating."

John's thighs trembled with the strain of holding himself up, and his eyes, closed in pleasure, had problems opening. The bobbing of the horse moved his head, making his gaze jar where it landed on the large metal construct. He hummed in acknowledgement, and a hand curled around his cock in reward.

He groaned lowly in the quiet morning air as Sherlock continued to guide them around the estate, pointing little landmarks and sharing stories of his childhood as they passed. He wished he could remember them, but his mind was overrun with arousal. He could only hope Sherlock would grace him with the stories later.

The slow pace of both the strokes inside and around him kept orgasm at bay until their starting point came back into view, and then the horse was snapped into a full gallop. The pace was brutal, and it only took a subtle shift of his hips to bring his lover's cock in contact with his prostate. Sherlock's hand around him quickened, and he had to be careful not to bite his lip or else bite through it.

"Come, John. Let me see you stain your pretty skirt," Sherlock whispered, stroking him faster and faster, gaining speed as the horse did. They'd just gotten back under the shade when his orgasm washed over him, eased along by the unceasing palm and calloused finger pads. But instead of slowing, they sped up and Sherlock bent them low, his cock almost a punishment against his over-sensitized prostate.

They were out from under the shade in seconds, the arm around his waist tightening, keeping him still and in his position as the greenery blurred beneath the horse's feet and Sherlock fucked into him faster and faster. The detective's orgasm didn't arrive till nearly a full lap later, when John could barely breath through the shocks over over-stimulation and arousal that made his limp cock throb. He didn't really notice that they'd slowed to a stop, or that his lover had pulled out and dismounted. Or that, when he was helped down, it was less of a controlled dismount and more of a barely-controlled slide.

He came back to himself, sprawled in the grass, Sherlock propped on an elbow at his side, gazing down at him with a pleased smile.

"How did you like your view of the grounds?" he prodded. "Were they... satisfying?"

"Fuck ooofff," John groaned as he rolled await, right towards a pair of hooves. He yelped and rolled the other way, elbowing his boyfriend for his laughter.

"Did you boys enjoy your ride?" Violet asked warmly as they made it back into the kitchen after a nice hot shower. John was hobbling something fierce, his legs stretched wide by the horse's girth and his hole by his boyfriend's, and his thighs were protesting any and all movement. But the mere fact that he was in jeans again made it all a little more tolerable.

"Oh, I'm sure John enjoyed his ride rather well," Mycroft joined with was a self-satisfied smirk. Face flaming, John nicked the man's mobile from his hand and dropped it into a steaming mug of tea.

FIN

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**Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, good or bad, in the Comments, and if bad, please be constructive so that I may better my writing! :3 Also, if you liked the story enough to want to promote/rec it on tumblr, instead of creating a new post, please reblog my original post (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, post/****110375933983)****! Thank you so much! You are, of course, also more than welcome to follow me on tumblr as well! :3 Tschüß~**


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